It's Not About Her
by merlintriss
Summary: He wasn't sure what it was about, but he knew, when he saw her in the field, that it wasn't about her. Jasper/Victoria. Not canon.


I'm a major Alice/Jasper shipper. So this is out of character. Written for the Twilight Anonymous Kink Meme on Livejournal.

Victoria was everything Alice was not. Alice was delicate, innocent even when she killed, something that Jasper needed to protect. He needed to protect her. Victoria was strong, running barefoot in the fields, smelling like nature, like freedom. With her, he knew he wouldn't have to reign himself in. Her eyes were red, and her breath, which his heightened senses could pick up from across the field, was rich with blood. He felt heady at the smell.

He shouldn't have come to the field. It was as good as cheating when he left the house and found her. She was like the newborns of his younger days, wild and carefree. He thought of Maria, but blocked it out. She was not Maria.

She was there. He caught her scent from a mile away. She wasn't even trying to hide. He flew into the clearing where just a couple of days prior he had played basketball with Alice's family. He didn't have Edwards speed, but he had never felt more alive than when he pinned her on the ground, his hand around her throat.

"What are you doing here?" He knew. Oh God, he knew. He wanted to hear her say it. Maybe it would make it easier to avoid her, to return to the cold embrace of his wife, to go home. Maybe it would be enough.

"You know." She smiled, her teeth brilliant and white in the night. She pushed herself up, his body letting her, knowing it was dangerous, not caring, "You know what you want. Take it." She ran her teeth along his neck, and he felt a shiver of fear. He shouldn't let her get this close. Too dangerous. He tamped down his own emotions. Fear was not what he needed right now.

She practically purred when he pushed her harder into the soil. She was young, so she had that strength on her side, but he, he was better. Without finesse he pulled off her shirt, giving her none of the attention he would normally lavish on Alice. No, he couldn't think of Alice. Not right now. Now with her. His own teeth hovered perilously above where her jugular would have been, careful not to slice into her diamond like skin.

Her hands reached up to wrap around his waist once he had sliced off her pants, pulling down his pants, getting a little too dominant. He growled out his own warning. This wasn't about her. She wasn't in charge here.

Jasper was older than most of his family. Had lived more than most of his family. He had killed new born vampires with wild abandon, had been used as a sexual vessel to his mistress for many years. He had wandered on his own through the American wasteland. He had almost survived the war. He was stronger than they gave him credit for.

He pushed into her, holding down her arms. She fought, trying to pull herself up, seeking some sort of pleasure on her own. He wasn't going to let her. This wasn't about her.

'

God, it felt so good to not have to worry. He had never wanted to scare Alice, never wanted to make her fear him. He wasn't feeling fear from Victoria. She liked this. She wanted this almost as much as blood. Even with the way he looked, how he screamed dangerous to every vampire he crossed, she liked that. It was the fear, the pain she got off on.

He wasn't going to bite him. He could tell she wanted him to, the way she twisted her neck up, offered herself up to him with her long sinewy movements. But he wasn't going to, because that would be like she was important. And he didn't get off on her pain.

"God," she clawed out, her legs bracing their movements on the ground, reaching her own climax much faster than he was reaching his. That wouldn't do.

He thrust harder, rolling his hips with the movement, focusing on himself, not letting her into this emotions. This wasn't about her, and he wasn't going to share with her what he would share with Alice. This was about him.

"C'mon, you can do better than that," her voice made him snap open his eyes, topaz eyes that had remained closed during most of the encounter. She was wild, hair splayed around her, red eyes on his face, shirt open to reveal the expanse of rich flesh from her neck to where they joined. He hadn't opened the shirt, hadn't felt her chest. He wasn't giving her anything.

He pulled back, barely holding his cock inside of her, before pushing in so hard she couldn't keep them still on the wet grass, pushing her forward a couple of feet. He had reduced her to moaning, her head thrown aside, her back arched, her chest pushing against her shirt.

He had never felt more alive. Not since he first met Alice. He shouldn't be thinking about her. Not here. Not now.

He looked down once more, and it triggered his own end. Her eyes were fixed on his, her neck strained and he could just make out the original bite marks on her throat. It was her hair though, like satin fire thrown about, so different than any he'd seen recently. It was too much. He thrust forward and bit the ground, his teeth tasting earth and grass. He wasn't going to bite her. She wasn't important enough for that. His hands wrenched away from her wrists, wrists that were now pressed into the wet soil.

He got up and dusted himself off, not caring if she had orgasmed. It wasn't about her. He didn't give her his back. But he didn't give her his heart either.


End file.
